Tides
by Blackrose Kitsune
Summary: We are like the ocean, you said; beautiful and dangerous. But we are akin to the tides: we have no business staying in one place pursuing one thing, when we are destined to live no more firmly rooted down than the tides. /Friendship with HK undertones./


_**Tides**_

--

Sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone is to let them go and let them find their own ways back. Sometimes, the best way you can love someone is to realize that sometimes, inexplicably, you have to let them go. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone is to say "goodbye."

But the feat is never an easy one, and the words never seem to have a good time or place.

But sometimes, there are no other options — because holding on only causes more pain, and ignoring the obvious only allows room for resentment to rear its ugly head later on down the road.

--

"You know, this time could be different," the words are out before I can catch them, and they hang unobtrusively between us on the breeze.

"You really think so?" and in his voice is genuine curiosity at the prospect — that, perhaps, I truly had believed the words spoken.

"Perhaps. After all, who can say what the future holds?" I reply slowly, eyes glancing ahead, taking in the picturesque beauty sprawled before us.

The sea is quiet today, with barely any waves to distract from the water's gleaming, unmarred brilliance. The sun, a giant fiery orb hanging high above, shines above us and sends the water awash in colors: a swirling miasma of blues and greens trapped beneath the glass-smooth surface; the water glitters as though a mine of diamonds have been scattered across a blanket, so blue.

Perhaps this is what stems our un-harried conversation; the calm of the sea beguiling us to cast off the worries of the past week and finally be at peace.

"I don't know," is the reply, a sighed response.

A crab has skittered by us, en-route to its home, no doubt, and has found an obstruction by my companion's body. It skitters awkwardly on its toothpick-legs trying to dodge around the roadblock but Hiei coaxes it back with a piece of driftwood he has been playing with. I watch, mildly entertained, as the poor creature snaps a claw at the piece of bark in an attempt to scare it away. Hiei laughs.

I suppress a laugh at the crab's misfortune and stretch languidly, falling back against the sand with a muffled thud. The sun, unyielding in its magnificence, punishes my eyes for staring at it too directly, as though it is some sort of celestial being that should not be gazed upon by mere mortals, and I shield them tiredly, throwing an arm over my face. I yawn.

"Perhaps it is not a matter one should think about too seriously," I supply, voice muffled by my arm, so I shift to move it and turn my head to watch him. The crab has managed to get away.

"Maybe," he concedes, beginning to dig a hole in the sand with his boot heel, attempting to burry the driftwood. "But I doubt it is wise to do so. You know it as well as I do, Kurama."

This, I cannot argue. Instead, I nod, and feel my head sink into the sand slightly. Come morning, I know I will regret having lounged like this — the sand will prove an irritating thing to exorcise from my hair entirely, but at this moment I do not care.

I twirl an idle carmine strand between my fingers, feel the coarseness of the fibers, take in the damaging effects the seawater had had on them, and suggest: "And if we just discount it — do you truly think they would care to look a second time?"

A chuckle follows the words, or at least I believe it is a chuckle. The wind has started to stir and has brought a slight swell to the tide. Perhaps the sound had gotten skewed. But he replies, "And, you think in discounting it we, ourselves, won't later be brought to re-think things? Circumstances?"

A seagull flies overhead, not quite soaring, but nonetheless graceful. It is such a free creature, unperturbed by any of the trials and tribulations our race faces daily. A smile tics at my lips as I observe it. And only when it has disappeared into the sun, so that I can no longer see it against the cerulean backdrop, do I voice my own thoughts:

"Ah, how fickle regret can be, hm?"

Even saying the words seems misplaced, considering the sheer serenity of this particular day. This is not a day for regrets — not even for contemplating them. It is a day for quiet reflection and peace of mind.

"Damn straight," I hear him reply, and there is a shuffling to accompany it. I glance in his direction and see him rise to his feet, unsteady on the un-compacted terrain.

"But then, what are we to do?" I inquire, continuing to watch him as he brushes himself off, clears the sand grit from his precious black ensemble.

When he finishes his task he turns to me and there is something intense about the way he looks at me, his eyes burning with a fire so much brighter than the giant ball of gas lighting our earth now. It is entirely captivating.

He extends a hand soundlessly and I take the proffered appendage and heave myself to my feet. The task is only slightly awkward, considering our sheer difference in height, but he manages it almost effortlessly; years of practice and the knowledge that our bodies flow so well together have taught us both that, and belay the awkwardness of these simple, friendly actions.

"So," I begin again, also working to brush myself off, "you have yet to answer my question, Hiei," I remind him casually, the merest flick of my eyes in his direction catching his attentions.

He shrugs and it is a stiff movement, a sign that he is uncomfortable with the answer he is going to give as he says, "What can we do, Kurama, but what we've always done?"

I furrow my brows at this, studying him, and I realize he had not liked saying the words any more than I had enjoyed hearing them. I am not annoyed, per se. Just thoughtful. "And how has that ever done us any good, Hiei? Look where we are now."

He runs a hand through is hair, mussing the trailing bangs and leaving them to fan out around his face on the slight breeze that the ocean has started to pull in. Then he shrugs again, another uncoordinated half-rise of one shoulder, and crosses his arms in front of him; he is sheltering himself again. "I don't know, Kurama. I don't know what to tell you."

I nod, understanding fully. He as well as I can recount just how many times we have had similar conversations. The locales are always different — my house; the forest; Makai; Reikai; this beach — but the conversations, beyond subtle nuances, are always about the same thing.

The sea continues to shimmer like a mass of fine gemstones trapped behind a glass wall and the rise and swell of a few foamy waves is all that detracts from its disturbing beauty — allows for the merest glimpse of reality; that for all its magnificence, the sea truly is a dangerous thing, forever shifting, changing.

And as this realization hits me, I chuckle. Without taking my eyes from the seascape, I address Hiei, knowing he is still beside me. "How very much alike we are, to the sea, Hiei."

"Oh?" He kicks out with a boot-clad foot and sends a spray of sand raining into the water, creeping ever higher on the shoreline as the tide falls out. "Do tell."

"Look at it, Hiei," I motion with a sweep of my hand towards the vastness stretching before us, hundreds of miles of undisturbed water. "It is so beautiful, but so dangerous."

He chortles, and I know his gaze has followed the sweep of my arm. Still, he manages a rather cynical: "Dangerous, yes. That, we are. But beautiful? I'm not so sure about that one, Kurama."

At this reply I turn to glance at him. He meets my gaze, and for as neutral as I try to keep it, I know he detects the frustration in them. "Not us, you Fool. What we have. It, whatever _it_ is, is beautiful—"

"—But dangerous, right?" he finishes for me, nodding his head sagely, and I bite my lip.

"Yes, exactly, Hiei."

He sighs then, and turns once more toward the ocean. A small wave has receded and a spray of foam adorns the shoreline. He watches the water pull back, relinquish its grasp on the land, and disappear again into the sea.

"You know, this time it could be different, Kurama," he mouths, taking a deep breath.

The words come out sounding strangled, having cost him some composure, and I know the answer I seek will not be a pleasant one as I ask, "And how do you propose that?"

"Simple, really," he explains, and again, the tone is less than thrilled. He likes the conclusion he has drawn even less than I will, it seems.

"I seem to be missing the punch line," I concede, not really following his trail of thought; not really knowing if I want to be in the first place.

He casts a hand out before him, a half-wave towards the sea, and turns, begins walking away from me. He stops after a few steps and voices, "We do what the waves do — act as the tides."

"Wash in, wash out, you mean?" I clarify numbly, watching the water with weary eyes. "Walk in, walk out, in other words? Come and go?"

"You said it yourself when you likened us to the sea, Kurama. But you missed one vital comparison," he points out, still staring in directions far flung and away from me.

"Being what, exactly?" I ask, knowing I have to despite wishing I did not.

"The ocean is not a constant — you can see that in the waves, in the receding tides. We are like the ocean, you said; beautiful and dangerous. But we are akin to the tides: we have no business staying in one place, pursuing one thing, when we are destined to live no more firmly rooted down than the waves of the ocean."

I nod, keeping my head hung low as he finishes his monologue. The words carry to me on the breeze, bitter suddenly, with too much sea salt, and I struggle to find my voice and admit the truth he spoke of just now.

"I hate to say it, but you are right, Hiei. Terrifyingly right."

"I know," he replies, and the words are despondent. "I know."

"So," I begin, looking up again, punishing my eyes with the too blue, too bright sky, "we are the tides, destined to drift."

"Apart for now," he answers, and I hear footfalls indicating his trek away from me.

"And, perhaps, together again," I call after him, voice carrying to him on the breeze, and I know he hears me. "The tides to come in as much as they come out, you know."

**_

* * *

_**

Disclaimer:

I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho or any related characters and or plots. They are property of Yoshihiro Togashi, FUNimation, VIZ media and anyone else holding licensiing dibs on the title.

**_Author's Ramblings:_** Just a little something that came up after listening to Chris Brown's "Say Goodbye" one too many times, and Incubus' "Wish You Were Here" were the sea-side setting came from. Uhm. Beyond that, it isn't the greatest bit of writing and I had to work really hard to keep the Hiei/Kurama undertones as they were. If I had my way, they'd be having wild fun on the beach (cough cough) but the muse wanted a chaste piece, so... here you have it.

Please leave your name at the door, honest opinions (whatever they are) intact?

Blackrose


End file.
